She said "I think, I'd be coffee."
I had asked her:
if your personality was a beverage,
what beverage would it be?

I reply,
"No. You wouldn't be coffee.

I wake up to a cup of coffee every morning.

If you're going to be coffee you need to have somehing else to you.

Be sweet and cheap with tons of sugar if you have too.

Or more preferably, be locally roasted with high notes and low notes.

Or be dark, bold and roasty.

You can taste like anything!
bing cherry, citrus, earthy, chocolate.

You can't just say coffee.
Coffee deserves so much more explanation than that.

I had coffee brandy once.

I woke up to her every morning and I got drunk off of her.
If I ever stopped drinking water i'd throw her all up and feel sick.
but I would never drink water.

Every morning After I drank her I'd walk down the hall and find a sippy cup full of milk.

Even she was not just milk.
She was strawberry milk.
She was coffee milk.
She was my little coffee milk.

You are not coffee.

I had coffee before and it's gone.
You are water.

I don't wake up to you every morning.
I don't need you to get through my day, yet.

But run you through my filter enough times.
Soak up all my grounds.

Maybe one day,
You can be my coffee.

How do you carry a child's coffin
When not long ago, you cradled them in your arms?
How do you wrap a child in burial cloth
When just a few years ago, you were still dressing them?
Where there was laughter and learning,
There came screaming and ******.
No smell of school dinners wafting through corridors,
Only burning and gunfire and blood.
Dread and panic replaced exam nerves,
And mourning has destroyed post-test celebrations.
What have we become, to turn a school into an execution site
Under the facade of a warzone?
To drag children out from seats, stare innocence in the face
And send them lifeless to the ground with a single bullet?
There is no cause great enough to **** children,
Nor any punishment severe enough to atone.
Families have been ripped to fragments,
And friendships have been severed or laid to rest together.
Hallways are silent with the heaviness of death,
But the living are still crying and screaming with grief.
We mourn for the dead and we weep for the living,
And as always, we plead, beg, hope for better days to come.
How do you carry your child's coffin
Knowing it's the last time you'll carry them to bed?
How do you wrap your child in burial cloth
Knowing it's the last time you'll ever see their face?